Wish You Well
by Ferowyn
Summary: XMFC Kink Meme Prompt Fill: Erik has lost everything after Hank and Logan have taken his powers - but what hurts most is having lost Charles. - Charles has lost everything after Raven has left - but what hurts most is having lost Erik.


**Wish You Well**

Charles shot upwards when he heard it, sitting upright in his bed within seconds.

For a moment he wished back for the nothingness he had fallen asleep with, and for the feeling in his legs; before realizing why this one call had come through, waking him up.

Despite the years that had passed he was still tuned to Erik, although he had not felt his mind ever since that fateful day at the beach. The other had apparently never taken that damn helmet off until his arrest, and had then kept his mind as far from the telepath's as possible, but now – now Charles was receiving a whole lot of desperation, and sadness, and the frantic need to apologize.

Without really realizing what he was doing he reached out for that mind he had been missing so terribly, positively _clinging_ to it, especially when he heard his name echo through the link he was just establishing, filled with so much warmth and guilt and loneliness.

There was nothing to do but latch onto it, and hold on tight, because he never, _never_ wanted to lose Erik's mind ever again.

Maybe it was due to his desperation, or the fact that the aftereffects of the serum were still suppressing his mental abilities – whatever it was, it kept him from realizing for a very long time.

But when he did-

It was already too late.

He had held on too desperately, too strongly, and his control over his telepathy was too precarious.

He was already being pulled away, whipped to a place he did not know, when he noticed how, for all its familiarity, Erik's mind was completely _different_. More than it should be, after those few years since that fateful day at Cuba.

It was old and wise and tired, and self-destructive in a way that surpassed everything he had ever seen in that man.

It was too late to let go then, though, and Charles was whirled towards where that old and unknown Erik would be, in a future he did not know.

The landing was… unpleasant, to put it nicely.

That he had no control over his legs did not exactly make things any easier. He would have taken the serum again in the morning, or during the night, had he woken up from the mental voices. Caught somewhere between it working and wearing off, he had not had time to apply a new dose as he had held on to Erik's mind, and now that he was here, somewhere, sometime, in some future-

There would be no way to get hold of it now, here.

He would have to make do with being paralyzed, and not in control over his telepathy (which would hurt), and meeting an Erik he did not know.

Having closed his eyes when he had made contact with a hard ground he opened them again, only to stare at two human legs, as well as those of a table.

Looking around for a few moments he realized that he was in a park, and that it was way past midnight, according to the darkness surrounding them. All the while his mind was holding on to Erik's, who was quite obviously the person sitting there in front of him, whose legs he was staring it.

Erik, who still had not reacted to the sudden appearance of one single man who was now sitting on the floor, unable to pull himself into a standing position.

Deciding that startling Erik was worth the risk Charles cleared his throat.

The result was unexpected.

The man jumped to his feet, a black chess piece – a pawn, it seem – between his fingers, ready to throw it. Then his frantic gaze found Charles and he froze, staring at him with wide, teary eyes.

Charles raised an eyebrow.

Something was _seriously_ wrong here.

"Erik?" he tried, carefully, even as he was still staring at the defeated shape of who used to be his friend, who still meant so much to him. Whatever had happened, no matter how it was his fault that Charles was paralyzed now, he had never wanted to see the man like this.

That tired, that alone.

That lost.

"Erik?" he asked again, when the other one did not react.

"Hey, it's me – Charles. I know, I look terrible" – probably the understatement of the year, but no matter how deep the depression he had lost himself in since losing Erik, it seemed to be nothing compared to what the older one was experiencing at the moment – "but you roused me from bed, so you'll have to deal with it."

He was still staring at Charles, but slowly the stupor seemed to be lifting, making way for disbelieving-ness.

"Charles? But- … how- …"

"I've got no idea," Charles answered honestly. "I… my control over my telepathic powers is rather… thin at the moment."

Understanding dawned in Erik's eyes. "The serum."

It was a statement, not a question.

Charles felt his heart lighten a little as he realized what this meant. "So we'll meet again?"

"Of course we'll meet again! You'll… you'll see more than enough of me." Tears welled up in his eyes when he seemed to remember something. "I won't tell you any details… but… but-… oh god-" With that he put his hand in front of his mouth as he gulped, and then moved it to cover his eyes. "Oh god," Charles heard him mutter again, and this time it was a sob.

Reaching for the edge of the table he tried to pull himself upright, to at least sit in a chair instead of on the cold ground, but all he managed to do was shatter the chess pieces he could not even see.

However, this seemed to tear Erik from his desperation, as he quickly moved and knelt down next to Charles, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him. Despite the obvious strain this was causing him – he was old, and while Charles was shockingly skinny, he still weighed quite a few pounds – he cradled the younger man with an incredibly gentleness, holding him closer than strictly necessary and obviously hesitating to set him down.

"I- … Charles-"

And his mind was like suction, pulling Charles in, and although Erik was clearly not doing this on purpose, not even _wanted_ to do this, Charles was too weak to resist – both telepathically and emotionally. What he saw…

There were lots of scenes whirling around, alternating, and Charles got no more than short glimpses, but that was more than enough.

A fight – long walks and talks – a wayward bullet, and Charles falling to the ground – a game of chess in a white, seemingly flying room – a huge satellite dish, turning – Charles, being torn apart – an evening spent in front of the fireplace – a lonely tombstone – a soft kiss-

No matter how different the scenes, no matter through how many years they reached, they had a striking similarity: All, in a way, featured Charles, and a certain longing on Erik's part that could not be misinterpreted.

And as the whirling memories began to fade, only two of them staying – the one with the kiss, shared between two old men; and the one where Charles was being torn to pieces by who seemed to be a telekinetic – desperation and regret were growing stronger and stronger, trying to overpower each other-

And for the first time Charles did not hesitate, finally doing what he had been dreaming of for so many years.

Erik, shaking, was still holding him bridal style, and it was easy for Charles to wrap one arm around the older one's neck and press his lips against the ones quivering just in front of his eyes.

For a moment, Erik froze, before kissing him back with the fervour and desperation of a drowning man.

Charles lost himself in that kiss.

Maybe it was not the Erik he had wanted to share it with, but it _was_ Erik nonetheless, the familiarity of the mind clinging to his left no doubt about that. Gently prompting that mind fitting together with his so seamlessly to sit down he wrapped his second arm around the man who was now sinking into one of the chairs, holding him so close it almost hurt.

Both of them poured everything into that kiss as they clung to each other in a lonely park, for some blissful minutes the only two people in the world.

Parting was like letting the darkness back in.

"God, _Charles_."

Erik buried his face in Charles' long, unkempt hair, but where before he had seemed defeated there was new hope in his stance.

There was nothing the younger one could say but "Erik", breathing the man's scent in deeply.

"I… did you… _see_…?"

"Yes," Charles breathed, his fingers still curled around the short grey hair at the back of Erik's head. He was not going to let go any time soon, still clinging to the older one's mind, for he knew – were he to loosen his hold, he would be whirled back to the past.

"I… God, I'm so sorry, Charles. I… you're dead, because of me, and… no matter our differences, no matter how hard we fought… I thought I'd always have you, that you'd always be there- …"

Charles could not help but smile. "But I am, and always will be. Don't you see, Erik? Our connection is so strong that it overcame decades. In an hour when we both needed each other dearly… we managed to meet, no matter the circumstances. I'll always be there, Erik. We're not meant to be parted. You'll see… you can do this, and one day, we'll meet again… and, maybe, then we'll be able to be together. I'll see you on the other side… but until then, I'll never be gone completely."

Erik's hold around Charles' torso was certainly painful now, but the younger one did not mind.

"You're right," the grey-haired man murmured. "There's nothing that can separate us."

And then he gave Charles a smile that was just as beautiful as the one he had fallen in love with, in a small CIA building so many years ago.

"Thank you so much for coming here."

The young man smiled sheepishly. "It was not exactly a conscious decision… but certainly not one I regret. I needed you just as much as you needed me."

"I'm still in prison?" Erik asked knowingly.

"Yes."

"And still you came when I called for you."

"How could I not?" Charles asked, and he knew that his eyes were open like never before.

"Whatever I do, whatever mistakes I make, and I'll make plenty – please, Charles, never forget that I love you, and will until you die."

Charles could not help but smile, treacherously softly. "I know," he murmured. "I know that now." And with that he pulled Erik in for another kiss, feeling that he was growing weaker.

The older one understood.

You have to leave, reverberated through the place where their minds were touching.

Yes.

I- …

We can do this, Charles tried to convince both of them even as they clung to each other more and more desperately. I always loved you, always will. Never forget that, too.

He was tearing through Erik's mind almost carelessly, their lips trying to feel as much of the other as possible in what little time they had left, and when he found that corner of the older one's mind where his control over everything metal was located he pulled it back to the surface with force, having neither the time not the strength left to do this gently.

A last desperate kiss, a last I love you resounding through either one's mind-

Then Charles felt it as he was being pulled back into the empty time he had come from, a time when Erik had not yet been his.

He knew now, however, that – someday – he would be, and that knowledge alone made the sun shine a little brighter the next morning.

He hated to be left alone again, just as much as he hated having to leave Erik alone, but when he stepped into the kitchen (there was no way he could deal with anyone's thoughts right now, not if they were not Erik's) and Hank was preparing breakfast, he smiled.

He would never be alone.

And neither would Erik be.

Many, _many_ years later, in a night-time park, an old man would smile even as tears ran down his cheeks.

As he would make the chess pieces in front of him dance he would cling to that one, tiny spot within his mind that was so very distinctly _Charles_, a small memento the man he loved had left there.


End file.
